Standing Proud
by Mar Blazer
Summary: Well, just an idle thought. My little sister has been into RWBY lately, so I figured, why not? A rogue White Fang member decides he's had enough, and starts to try and reclaim his sense of pride he used to feel, the right way this time.
1. Prologue: Broken Pride

Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY, those rights belong to Rooster Teeth. Rest Well Monty. For every foot of the road ahead, we'll take an extra step for you.

Also, dedicating this to my little sisters, I'll be here for you for All Of Our Days, okay?

Prologue: Shattered Pride.

The room was dark, florescent lights flickering dimly. The drab metal walls matching the dreary behavior of its inhabitants. Men and women in white masks and black hoods milling about the ground beneath the raised platform, moving crates, working loading equipment, all while two men stare each other down across a table above.

The first is a slim, muscular man in a black and red suit, with crimson hair and a mask covering his eyes. A bull's tail the only sign of his status as a Faunus. Hanging at his side, his left hand held on to a Ninjato by its sheath, a calm grip speaking towards his ability. He radiated menace as he seemed to loom above those that surrounded him, his presence encouraging the lesser members to work faster as his gaze swept over them. He spoke to a man across the table, calm and brisk toned, with an air of command.

"Regardless of your objections, the plan will go through, our agreement with them is ironclad,and the benefits are too great to be ignored." He said, his eyes narrowing unseen behind his mask.

With a slam from his fist impacting the table, his opposite growls out his response, "The benefits are _not_ worth the price! I will _not_ be party to _Genocide,_ Taurus! And nor shall any members of my cell! I understand the need for aggressive measures and terror tactics they've been effective after all, but I refuse to allow this to happen!." His growling rises as he speaks, and as he raises his fist from the table, an imprint is left behind in the metal.

While the man in black and red seems the definition of a businessman to an untrained observer, his counterpart looks more the warrior. Towering over the man in black by a solid foot and a half, a wild mane falling about his shoulders in a burnished gold, darkening towards the edges. Pronounced canines visible as his lips are drawn back in a snarl. His dress is more practical for a battlefield, armor plates covering his arms, legs and chest, polished to a brilliant shine, his own mask, styled with exaggerated fangs and crimson edging, sitting on the table between them. As he gestures, the eyes are drawn to the massive behemoth of a blade on his back, a fairly simple affair, with the blade parted by a seam down the middle, a golden ribbon of color going from tip to the blocky hilt. The weapon was nearly as long as he was tall. Yet the weight seemed to be nothing as his shoulders moved with the increasing frenzy of his arms.

The man in black and red, Taurus, continues to speak, his glare now easily noticeable even behind the mask from the angle of his head, drilling into the blonde juggernaut.

"Genocide? Hardly Lowe. We receive a portion of the stolen Dust and weapons,and they get a breach in Vale's defenses. The Grimm released into the city will be contained within the hour. It's nothing more than another few bites at the heels before larger action is taken." He starts to walk around the table as he speaks, before coming to a stop and looking the leonine Faunus in the eye.

Lowe growls deeper at the bull Faunus's invasion of his personal space, his hand itching to reach for Brightroar, the titan blade strapped to his back. But Guaire Lowe hasn't risen to command of his own cell in the White Fang by being a fool. At this range, Taurus had the advantage, his _Iaido_ , the practice of drawing, attacking, and sheathing the blade again in a single movement, was far too fast for him to counter this close in, and his armor and Aura wouldn't protect him from the edge of Wilt. Still, his ears pull back as he snarls, an archaic response, but the point is made.

Taurus expected this, stepping back, the reaction he desired achieved. Still, he isn't ready for Guaire's response.

His eyes slits, he picks up his mask and turns to the White Fang members below him as he places the mask in place on his face. Finally, he sighs, and turns to the bull Faunus, before speaking again.

"No." The response rumbles out, and the warehouse falls silent, various Faunus stopping their work to look at the two commanders standing above them.

Adam Taurus, casually placing his right hand on the hilt of Wilt, merely exhales slightly, before speaking again.

" I told her you wouldn't agree to it." His tone accepting, but the ever present rage the White Fang's upper echelons knew him for was simmering beneath the surface.

For his part, Guaire simply placed his right hand on the grip of Brightroar, and grinned as he put the final word in.

"And I told you that if you ever crossed me you'd be my latest barbecue experiment, but I guess we're both regretting not being more clear, aren't we?"

With that, they both exploded into action, Brightroar crashing down as a gunshot heralded Wilt flying out of it's sheath to meet the massive blade, the impact shaking the ground. Quickly, the two exploded into a flurry of blows. Guaire's sweeping strikes complemented by using the armor on his left arm to block the cascade of whirling sword strikes and gunfire that was Adam Taurus.

With another gargantuan swing of his sword, Guaire realizes he's at a disadvantage, Taurus is too fast, and while the lion Faunus could hold his own in the air, the Iaido master was far better at it, propelling himself and his sword at random angles with a push or a blast from Bloom, the sheath of his sword apparently being named because it was actually a weapon and not because of a rare moment of vanity on behalf of the bull Faunus. In this case, it was a shotgun with quite the punch

With a weapon the size of Brightroar, he'd long ago mastered using it quickly and in close quarters, spinning the hilt in his hand to block gun fire, twirling the hulking blade like some would a reed, but no amount of skill would help him against the onslaught before him.

So, he cheated. His Semblance allowed him to make room if he needed to. But he still needed an opening, no matter how small. So, he weathered the storm for a few moments more, even as his aura dropped lower.

He blocked bullets and blade alike,the two Faunus dancing back and forth, neather juggernaut giving an inch without taking one in kind. The various peons among the lower ranks had long since vacated the warehouse, and no doubt someone had called Guaire's rebellion in. He needed to finish this quickly. But dammit if he could find a blasted opening in Taurus's defense, he had heard about the other White Fang member's semblance, he would have a single shot at what he was planning.

But as they continued to slug it out, crashing blows impacting each other as the two's swords met again and again, he realized he wouldn't find one in time, the bull Faunus was tiring faster, but not fast enough. So, if his enemy wouldn't give him an opening, he'd have to share one of his own.

He swung just slightly off, missing Taurus by a hair, but not giving enough time to back swing and catch him. And the bull Faunus, tiring from the protracted battle, took the bait.

With a last from Bloom, he backflipped through the air into a falling cleave, aiming for Guaire's skull...

Only for Guaire to grip Brightroar with both hands and swing it up to meet Wilt.

A sickening crack and a dribble of red.

With a clatter, the halves of Guaire's mask hits the ground, a faint red line cut across his face as Brightroar sends Wilt flying through the air a matter of moments before his skull was cut in twain.

As Taurus, not missing a beat, brings up his shotgun, Guaire Lowe looks down at him and activates his Semblance, opening his jaws and unleashing a mighty roar shakes the earth...

Time the dust settles, the warehouse is obliterated, and Adam Taurus walks, bleeding, over to where his sword landed.

Of Guaire Lowe, there is no trace.


	2. Chapter One: Rally

Disclaimer: Still don't own RWBY, probably for the best, while I like to think my fight scenes are good, they aren't THAT good.

Chapter One: Rally

As he crept through the night, away from the shattered remains of his former base of operations, Guaire Lowe was thinking as he slunk through the night, his metaphorical tail between his legs.

Guaire Lowe was many things, in his humble opinion. He was rather lazy outside of what he was interested in, a touch conceited, and more than a little rude. He was also one of the better commanders. He held it as a matter of personal pride that his cell had almost never failed an operation, and had maximum effect at, usually, minimum cost. While he wouldn't say he'd kept his claws clean, he avoided killing humans whenever possible, it was just a matter of practicality after all.

His logic was simple, humans who weren't dead could spread the word, but if they're alive, they'd remember their close encounters, and the next time they looked at a Faunus, they wouldn't dare look down on them. Not if it risked another "visit" from the White Fang, where they might not be so lucky.

Sure, it wasn't perfect, but it seemed, to him, the most efficient way to accomplish the White Fang's goals.

Equality.

At-least, that was what he thought it had been. He'd been with the organization since he was barely more than ten, nigh on ten years ago, and when it took a more aggressive bent he was willing to take up cold steel as much as he had been a sign, like his grandfather before him, But this...

Allowing Grimm into the walls of Vale? Insanity. Genocide. Sure, Taurus had been right when he said it would likely be contained, the targeted area was near Beacon, trained and battle-hardened huntsmen and huntresses would come in minutes, their students following in droves. Unless they somehow drew a few herds of Goliaths or something similarly powerful, the attack would fail, contained within an hour.

But that wasn't the point.

Grimm feed off of the darker emotions, they're drawn to them. Pain, fear, paranoia, hate all these things and more made them stronger. It was why cells outside of the kingdoms borders had so much trouble, White Fang members had a lot of hate. And that drove the Grimm wild. Mountain Glenn was only viable as a stronghold after sealing off several of the stations and their connecting structures from the rest and working from there.

He should know, he'd helped clear the worst of the larger caves and rooms out. His shoulder and ribs hurt for days after taking out that Anansi, damned thing was bigger than a handful of bullheads. Not to mention the actual bullheads, which it had eaten. He'd worked with one of Taurus's Lieutenants on that one, a hyena Faunus with a chainsaw-sword abomination, a touch overly eager, but not a bad sort-

With a shake of his head, he got back to his earlier thoughts as he worked his way to a small apartment block he knew he could hole up in for a few days.

The defenses of Vale hadn't been breached since Mountain Glenn, the walls of the Kingdom proper hadn't been breached since the War, and that gave people confidence. Confidence that gave the illusion of invincibility.

And once an illusion is shattered, it tends to lead to the opposite.

If there was a breach, people would panic, even if it's contained the fact that the White Fang had succeeded in causing it would make them the most feared and reviled force in the world save for the Grimm themselves. They'd have all eyes on them, and the Faunus War might well start all over again.

And the Grimm would feel all that fear, hatred, and panic. And they'd come en-mass. Thousands would die, at least. If not more.

His grandfather had fought for the right to stand equal with humans, not to wipe them and the Faunus both out.

Swinging himself up a decorative fence and launching towards a windowsill, he rolled into a plain room, walked over to the bed, put his sword against the wall, and promptly went to sleep.

With any luck, things would be clearer in the morning.

When the sun rose the next day, Guaire was reluctant to wake up, covered in bruises and more than a few new scars, but while the White Fang wasn't a Military in the strictest sense, it was more than close enough for him to have acquired the habit of rolling out of bed, showering, eating quickly, and dressing himself.

Staying here long would be foolish, atleast some of the members of his cell know where this safehouse is. So, after gathering any useful odds and ends, he jumped out the window, and was on his way.

The White Fang couldn't be allowed to do this. no matter what they thought they'd gain from it.


End file.
